


It Comes In Waves

by Spooky_Spooks



Category: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - Ransom Riggs
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Beach Episode!, Comfort, Family, Gen, Happy Ending, Help, Light Angst, MPHFPC Big Bang 2020, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:41:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27780937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spooky_Spooks/pseuds/Spooky_Spooks
Summary: "Bang.Splash.Searing pain.Screams."Jake takes the children on a beach day, but after all, they've been through can a simple day of relaxation be just a simple day of relaxation?
Kudos: 23





	It Comes In Waves

**Author's Note:**

> This is my work for the mphfpc big bang 2020! This has been a lot of fun, and you can find the accompanying artwork made by the lovely chloe on the mphfpc discord, who's tumblr and artwork can be found here: https://fill-your-life-with-bees.tumblr.com/
> 
> As a note! This fic does contain a depiction of an anxiety/panic attack so if that is something that would be unpleasant for you, it may be wise to give this fic a pass.

It was a nice day, with a warm sun and clear skies, and Jacob had offered to take the peculiars to a beach not too far from his home, which he claimed was unknown to the general public. Miss Peregrine, relieved to no longer have to leave the children under the care of Sharron (who could most certainly be trusted with responsibility, but perhaps not with children) while she attended an ymbryne council meeting, readily accepted. While the rest of the children seemed excited by the prospect, eagerly packing a picnic and slathering themselves in sunscreen, Millard found himself dreading the beach.

He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he felt as though something bad was going to happen. Not wanting to ruin everyone’s day, Millard said nothing and continued to help the others get ready for the day, figuring that if something bad was truly going to happen then, Horace would have told them by now. He remained silent as the group walked to the beach, doing his best to calm the irrational fears and swirling thoughts running through his mind while the others chatted and laughed as if nothing was wrong. He tried instead to focus on the feel of the gravel path below his feet or the heat of the sun on his skin with limited success.

Soon, they had arrived at the beach. It was beautiful, like something one would see on a postcard. The sand was white and smooth, not a single flaw in sight, and the waves that met it were pleasantly gentle, making it easy for the smaller children to play without fear of being knocked over. The water itself was a bright and beautiful blue-green, and it sparkled in the sun as if it was made of pure gemstones. Normally, Millard would have been excited by such a sight, but today he almost found himself repulsed by it. It was as if every fiber in his body was telling him to leave this place.

As the others set down their blankets and baskets before eagerly running into the water, Millard carefully laid out his blanket and sat down to read the book he had brought, deciding to simply avoid the water for the day. The sounds of splashing of water, the salty taste of the sea breeze, and the feel of the sand’s warmth soaking through the blanket underneath his legs should have been pleasant, but it felt almost grating on his mind as he began to read. Although this would normally be a soothing activity for him, it was exactly the opposite today as he found himself unable to absorb a single word on the pages in front of him. It was frustrating. Try as he might, he couldn’t comprehend a single word, let alone a sentence, or even a page. Millard was so consumed with his attempts to read, that he didn’t even realize time had passed until he heard a voice calling his name.

“Millard! Come on, play with us!” He looked up to see Claire yelling from the edge of the water, bobbing happily on the waves next to Olive.

“Please? The water’s really nice!” Continued Olive, bouncing by her side, weighted shoes abandoned on the beach in favour of a lighter weighted belt that would keep her from floating away, without being heavy enough to sink her.

He hesitated, still feeling uncomfortable around the water, but at the insistence and pouting of the two little girls Millard gave in (their puppy-dog eyes were not something that could be resisted anyways). With a sigh, he placed his book back into the basket for safekeeping, not wanting to scrape sand out of its pages, before making his way to the water where Claire and Olive stood, practically dragging his feet the entire way. 

As his skin made contact with the water, instead of the cool, and silky texture he expected from seawater, he felt as if there were bugs underneath his skin, crawling around and making it itch from the inside. The sensation shocked him, it wasn’t something he had felt before. He didn’t know what to do about it, only that he wanted to make it stop. He wanted to itch it, to claw the bugs away, but knew that, rationally, there were no bugs and that scratching would accomplish nothing but angry, searing tears in his skin. He found himself freezing, not moving for fear he would give in to the urge to tear the imaginary bugs from his crawling and itching skin.

“Millard?” Olive asked, suddenly in front of him, her hand finding a place on his arm. “Are you okay? You went all quiet.”

He startled a bit at her voice, unsure of when she got so close. “Yes, I’m alright. Sorry about that, the water is just a bit colder than I had thought.” He shook his head, trying to clear the sensation in his skin, and focus himself on the current situation. He couldn’t let them know anything was amiss, he’d hate to ruin their fun for nothing.

Seemingly oblivious to his growing distress, Claire giggled in reply. “I thought it was cold too! Don’t worry, it gets better if you stay in the water for a bit.”

“You’re right, I’m sure that’s all it is,” Millard replied, eager to play along if it meant no questions would be asked about his behavior. Bird knew the little ones deserved to have a day of fun and relaxation, after all, they had been through. 

For once, he found himself thankful for his invisibility as it ensured that no one would be asking why it was he flinched whenever he was hit with a splash of water, recoiling as if it had burned him, or why he began to violently shake whenever he found himself submerged past his knees. While Millard’s anxiety never left him, he didn’t feel it growing, though he couldn’t bring himself to calm down enough to even begin to enjoy the afternoon. This not-calm-not-panic wouldn’t last, however. 

Suddenly, he felt another person slam into his back, very likely not noticing his presence, sending him falling into the water face first. As his face rapidly approached the water, he felt his anxiety sky-rocket and he found himself unable to move, and unable to catch himself before he met the water. Millard’s vision went black as soon as his face hit the water, the resulting splash, and cold pressure on his face unnoticed through his blinding panic. 

_ Bang. _

_ Splash. _

_ Searing pain. _

_ Screams. _

_ Were those screams his, or did they belong to someone else? What was happening? Why did his shoulder hurt? Why couldn’t he move? Why couldn’t he breathe? God, he couldn’t breathe! He was going to die. He was going to die and no one could help him. No one would even be able to find him- _

“Millard?” A familiar voice broke through his panicked haze, though the fast-paced and aggressive beating of his heart nearly drowned it out. It was feminine, and it was dripping with fear, but aside from that Millard couldn’t make himself recognize anything else about who the voice belonged to. “Millard!”

Someone was shaking him. He opened his eyes, when had he closed them? He frantically looked around him, searching for an explanation of what was happening to him, fighting against the painfully bright sun for even a glimpse of his surroundings. Looking up as his eyes began to adjust, all he could see were the faces of other children, Bronwyn’s the largest and closest. She must have been the one shaking him and calling his name. They all looked panicked, worry clouding their sunburnt faces. Hovering over her shoulders were some of the other children, though a few faces were missing, likely afraid to approach. He wanted to ask what happened, why everyone was looking at him, who had been screaming, but found he couldn’t take in a breath.

“Millard? Are you alright?” Bronwyn asked, her brow furrowing in concern as she began to pat down his arms as if checking him for an injury. “I’m sorry for knocking you over.”

He tried to reply, even going so far as opening his mouth, but he couldn’t. It felt like his heart had been stuffed into this throat, and all he could do was shake his head in vain.

“Hey, Millard? Are you alright?” Bronwyn’s concern only seemed to grow, her voice taking a panicked note, and there seemed to be nothing he could do to quell it. “Can you take a breath for me?”

He nodded and tried to take a deep breath, only to find himself coughing up a mouthful of salty, burning, seawater. If anything, this only made his anxiety worse. He still couldn’t breathe, even with the water out of his lungs, the air wouldn’t go in. 

Bronwyn seemed to think his lack of breath was caused by more water, as she began to thump him on the back as if trying to force the water out, rocking him back and forth with the motion, unknowingly mimicking the waves. There was no more water, however, and all it served to do was make everything worse. With each thump, all he could hear was the bang ringing in his ears, making his thoughts spin, and his vision blur. It was like he was being shot all over again, over and over again with each thump, a memory of the pain ricocheting throughout his body each time her fist made contact with his shoulder blade. 

Finally, Millard was able to force himself to move, though it felt as though he was trying to run through glue, his movements forceful yet slow as he backed away from Bronwyn and the other children. He rushed towards the beach, away from the water and the sensation of bugs underneath his skin that it brought with it, clawing at his arms the entire way, desperate to rid himself of the horrid sensation. He struggled to breathe as he moved. His lungs were burning and all he could hear was the relentless pounding of his heart in his ears, dulling all other sounds. The moment he reached the shore, it was as if all of the desperate energy he had seemed to vanish when he fell to his knees in the sand. He couldn’t tell if the water on his face was from the fall or if he was crying, but either way, he wanted it off his face, the moisture made his skin feel wrong. He began to rub at his face recklessly, his breath only managing to come in rapid gasps, providing him just enough air to stay conscious. 

Suddenly, his hands were being firmly, but gently, pulled away from his face, revealing Horace sitting in front of him. “Millard, it’s okay. I know it doesn’t feel that way, but it is.”

Millard tried to take in what Horace was saying but found himself struggling to do so, half-heartedly struggling to pull his hands out of Horace’s grasp.

“Just breathe with me, okay?” Horace asked, taking one of Millard’s hands and placing it on his chest, allowing Millard to feel each breath he took in and released.

Millard nodded, although he knew Horace couldn’t see it, still finding himself unable to force the words out, his pounding heart still taking up residency in his throat.

“In,” Horace began, taking a deep breath in. Millard did his best to do the same, though it felt as though his lungs were trembling. “And out.” He continued after a moment, releasing the breath slowly through his mouth. Millard tried to do the same and found it came easier than the breath in had been.

Although he initially found it near impossible to do so, Millard continued to follow Horace’s instructions. Eventually, he found himself able to breathe again and began to relax as his heart seemed to return to its proper place in his chest. As his breath steadied and his shaking began to lessen, Horace released Millard’s hand from his chest but remained sitting in front of him.

“Better now?” He asked, carefully masked concern barely notable in his voice.

“Yeah...yes, I think so,” Millard replied, the raspiness of his own voice surprising him. Then after a moment: “How did you know that would work?”

Horace shrugged, looking embarrassed for a moment before continuing, his gaze on the sand rather than on Millard as it had been previously. “It seemed like what happens to me sometimes, after my dreams. That’s what Miss P. does for me, so I tried it with you.”

Millard nodded, although he knew Horace couldn’t tell. It could be hard to avoid such instinctive gestures, especially with his mind as addled as it was now. “Thanks.”

“What happened, if you don’t mind my asking?” Horace asked nothing but caring showing on his face or in his voice as he once again tried to meet Millard’s gaze. “Do you know what caused it?”

“I don’t know,” Millard explained, struggling to think clearly about what had just happened. “I’ve never experienced anything like that before. I’ve just felt off all day, and it seemed to get worse in the water.”

Horace looked confused, his head tilted to the side, and brow crinkled. “You’ve never been afraid of the water before.”

“I know, it was just today,” Millard agreed, a clouded memory coming slowly to the forefront of his mind. “I don’t know why, but it was almost as if I was being shot all over again.”

Suddenly it clicked! And Millard could tell from the look on his face, that Horace realized it too, the boy going pale, even through his forming sunburn. 

“I suppose being unexpectedly submerged was too similar to that night,” Millard explained, the pieces in his mind beginning to come together. “That explains my sudden aversion to water.”

Horace placed a hand on his shoulder, an uncharacteristically comforting gesture. “It’s alright, we all have scars. Some are just not as obvious as others.”

“Yeah, I know. Thanks again,” Millard replied with a sigh, the realization creeping in. “I just didn’t want to ruin everyone’s day.”

“Mill, we all just want to make sure you’re okay,” came Jacob’s reply as he crouched next to Horace, seeming to sense that the situation had calmed enough for a more casual approach. “We’ve spent a few hours at the beach anyway, we can cool off at home. I think we have some ice cream in the freezer.”

“Okay, yeah, that sounds good.” Millard agreed, allowing the pair to help him up from the ground before Jacob went off to gather the others. 

To Millard’s relief, not a single one seemed unhappy at the suggestion of returning to Jacob’s for ice cream. Although it didn’t quite feel it yet, as Millard watched as his family eagerly agreed to a more comfortable activity  _ for him,  _ he found himself knowing what Horace had told him was true. It would be okay.


End file.
